Fudge's Trial
by Nargled
Summary: One of two ideas I had for Fudge's trial. Needs some tinkering, but I need to get something posted, it's been too long. This time Luna gets to shine.
1. Chapter 1

Fudge's Trial

A/N: Standard fanfiction disclaimer. I continue to own nothing and make nothing. Thanks to JKR for allowing us to play in her world.

One of two ideas I've had for years for Fudge's trial. Even before Trump, and Brexit, and the elections in Germany, and Italy, and…. honest. All the crazy and over the top ideas of the corruption of Fudge, Umbridge, and the rest have been completely eclipsed by reality, and now appear just a pale imitation. Oh well. My muse has flitted back, so it's time to type once again. Hope you enjoy.

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The trial for Cornelius Fudge had been saved for last. Partly because he wasn't a murderous psychopath like most of the ones tried before him, partly because his name kept coming up in case after case. So much evidence had accumulated that his trial was basically ninety percent over before it even started. Hundreds of counts of bribery, each with the possibility of a conspiracy charge attached. If he was found guilty of just half of them, he would be the 'most guilty' of them all by a large factor. As tired and weary of trials as the Wizengamot and even the public had become, his had sparked a renewed interest. It would be the last, but it might also be the worst, and everyone loved the worst. Rita started covering it a week before the opening 'hear ye, hear ye.' It was slated to start at ten a.m., and by half six the line for both the public gallery and the press section were winding back and forth through the atrium.

Though nobody recognized it at the time, the first sign of trouble was when Fudge was asked if he was willing to take veritaserum, with the veiled threat of 'or do we have to force it down you' left unspoken. His reply of "I insist on it," was merely shrugged off by everyone as mere bravado and politi-speak.

The three drops were given, and the questioning began.

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Three weeks in, and though they still had half the list of charges to go through, it wasn't looking good for the prosecution. Time after time Fudge said, with veritaserum backed sincerity, that he had no knowledge of the dastardly plots his donors may have had and wanted him to participate in, and that any monies given to him were just campaign contributions, and most certainly not bribes. That he was the chairman and CEO of his re-election committee meant that he was in control of all that money, and paid himself handsomely for exercising that control, but it was a loophole in their laws that it wasn't illegal. Soon to be remedied, of course, but even the Wizengamot couldn't get any changes to take effect retroactively.

Any recommendations he gave for a person for a position, or for voting for or against a piece of legislation or regulation were because he was honestly believed that it was the right thing to do.

It didn't matter what the intent of the other party was, or what they were convicted of. Fudge sat there and was able to prove that his intent was never bribery. Or conspiracy. Or malfeasance. Being completely gullible wasn't a crime, unfortunately.

Even the Kiss given to Barty Crouch, Jr, was _technically_ legal. Previously sentenced, and escaped from Azkaban, he basically had no rights, and he clearly was, or at least had recently been, a threat. To the entire population of magical children in England no less. It would have certainly been a good idea to question him thoroughly, but it wasn't illegal not to. By the time the questioning about Crouch was over, half the Wizengamot thought they should be thanking him, not putting him on trial.

Finally, in frustration, Chief Prosecutor Hughes completely lost his temper and yelled out "Nearly every thing you did helped Voldemort, when did you first start working for him?" His immediate apology and retraction of the question mixed with Fudge's advocate's loud "Objection!" _and_ the Chief Witch's loud "Prosecutor Hughes!" so that Fudge's "I would never work for a mere half-blood" was nearly totally missed.

Two of the people who did hear it were in the front row of the public gallery. Hermione sat up with even more indignation than she'd been feeling the last couple of weeks at his slur. They'd always suspected he was a pure blood bigot, but was so bumbling and ineffective it seemed accidental when it happened, like he couldn't understand what all the fuss was about and was surprised by being called out on it. An idiot, and not put together enough to actually be evil.

Now it seemed that the only he defense he needed was that he was indeed so bumbling and ineffective. After all they'd been through, through the battles and trials and completely gutting the Wizengamot, and still Fudge might get off. It was enough to make her regret bringing her parents back from Australia instead of joining them there.

Luna, however, leaned back in her seat and stared off into space. Something about that statement was important. Very important. She rolled it around in her head a few times. Whispered it to herself a few times more. Spelled it backwards and checked every third letter to see if there was a hidden message. Nothing. Chanted it backwards to see it summoned a demon or some pudding or a parchment with the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth on it. Still nothing. But it was still important. She just knew it.

She fished her DA galleon out of her pocket and started rubbing it with her thumb. It was a habit she found comforting. It reminded her that she had friends, and helped her think. After a while, she started turning it over and over in her hand, and suddenly was struck that that was very important, too. She stared at her coin as her hand flipped it. Heads, tails. Heads, tails. First one side, then the other. Why was a flipping coin important? Or was it a coin flipping? Random chance? Trials were certainly not about random chance. One side, then the other. The other side of the coin. _The other side of the coin!_

"That's it!" she shouted excitedly. Which brought the trial to a screeching halt as everyone, including even Fudge, stopped to stare at her.

"Is there a problem, Miss Lovegood?" asked the Chief Witch.

"Oh yes, your honor. Well, several actually, but they'll all be fixed soon. So I guess there really aren't any problems at all."

"Er, right then. Just keep it down, or we'll have to eject you from the court."

"Yes, your honour. Sorry, your honour. Thank you, your honour."

As the trial got underway again, she tugged urgently at Hermione's sleeve.

"What?" she asked in annoyance.

"He's doing it wrong," Luna said in an excited whisper, thrusting her coin in Hermione's face.

"What?" she asked irritably, pushing the coin aside.

"Oh, I forgot. You usually have to walk step by step when you think, before you can dance and skip."

"What?" asked Hermione again, more confused than ever.

Luna sighed. Small step after very small step. So many small steps. She had no idea how Hermione got through life. Maybe she needed a coin. If only she had taken hers when she'd offered. She would try again. "If I give you this coin in order to influence you to do something naughty for me, that's bribery, right?"

"Yes…?"

"And Prosecutor Hughes is asking very specifically about bribery over and over, and hasn't been right yet, has he?"

"Apparently not."

"So like Chief Prosecutor Mitchell before him, he's not asking the right questions, is he?"

"But Mitchell was being bribed by Malfoy. They've cleared Hughes with both a vow and veritaserum."

"Which just means he's not doing it on _purpose_. He's still not doing it _right_. He's thinking like a prosecutor, not like a criminal. Fudge is thinking like a criminal, which means he's already thought like a prosecutor."

"Get to the point, Luna."

"Well, if you _demand_ the coin _from_ me," she said turning it over and placing it into Hermione's hands, "as part of making me do something naughty for you, to keep you from throwing me in Azkaban, or exposing my secrets, I'm still giving you the coin, but it's not bribery, is it?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed in thought, before widening in surprise. "No, that would be extortion or blackmail."

"So when Prosecutor Hughes asks Fudge about bribery…."

"He can honestly say he wasn't bribed."

"Did anyone actually _say_ they were bribing Fudge, or just admit to giving him money?"

"I—I don't remember."

"And even if they thought it was a bribe, but Fudge didn't…."

"It doesn't matter since we've proven Fudge didn't think it was a bribe, and he can prove his actions weren't a _result_ of the money. We're basically providing his defense for him."

"But if Fudge isn't a lowly co-conspirator or patsy being bribed to pass those laws, or hire those people, or let criminals go…."

Hermione's eyes narrowed again. Enough so that Luna knew that her thoughts were finally dancing and skipping and twirling, with a wand in each hand, blasting everything in sight to smithereens. It was, as usual, a wonder to behold. She was right, all Hermione had needed was the coin.

"He's the one in charge," she growled out.

"And he'd _never_ work for a half-blood like Riddle…." Luna quoted.

"But he'd certainly have one working for him."

Luna smiled. Lucius had gotten off easy, being tossed through the Veil. Fudge, however, was now in deeeep Snorkack doo doo.

She had to grab Hermione's arm to keep her from either yelling out or vaulting the rail and rushing down to the court floor to take over for Prosecutor Hughes. Harry, who'd been keeping an eye on their conversation, finally leaned over to ask what was going on. A minute later, Hermione was holding _his_ arm to keep him from rushing down to the court floor, and it wouldn't have been to take over from Prosecutor Hughes.

Luna sat back in her chair again, pulling out another coin and rolling it in her hand. Yes, it was nice to have friends. They'd waited this long, they could wait a few hours more.

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Shacklebolt sat behind his desk, with Prosecutor Hughes beside him, a very worried look on his face. The last time these two sat there, they'd had to review nearly every Death Eater trial and had put a good chunk of the Wizengamot on trial, and subsequently in prison, as well.

The addition of Luna Lovegood wasn't reassuring. At all.

"What now?" was all he could manage.

Hermione looked left and right at Harry and Luna, who was now rolling her coin over the knuckles of both hands hypnotically like the Unspeakable had a few weeks earlier. Struck by the absurdity, she laughed and just said, "You're doing it wrong."

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A/N: It's not what a politician says, it not even what they do necessarily, it's the results of what they do. Even for someone with the degree of personality disorder as a certain world leader (or two, see John Oliver's musings (bumbling Boris is bumbling on purpose)), what they do _makes sense to them_, even if it boggles the mind of the rest of us. It's silly to wait for them to think and act like the rest of us, or like any other president, or what any of us expect any other president would act like. Thinking and acting like they do has gotten them pretty far, thank you very much, like the _most powerful position in the whole effin country_, and they have _no reason_ to change.


	2. Chapter 2

Fudge's Trial, part 2

Fudge sat in the accused's chair yet again. At least the chains weren't so tight today. The Auror who cast the spell to apply them must have started to think he wasn't guilty. Good, good. One more person convinced. Or at least starting to doubt his guilt. And once doubt set in, it wasn't long before it seemed _reasonable_. And reasonable doubt was all that was needed.

A good number of the remaining Wizengamot also appeared doubtful, or at least bored enough with the repeated failures of the prosecution that they were unlikely to vote him guilty. Consider him stupid, or a fool, perhaps, but not guilty. Which of course was the goal. Even the Chief Witch was starting to lose her patience. Maybe he'd get a mistrial.

He glanced carefully around the room, and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Also good. They were two thirds of the way through the charges, and so far nothing had stuck. A few more days of convincing himself that he did nothing wrong in receiving _campaign contributions_ and he would be a free man. Soon after that he and the rest of his money would be on the beach in The Caymans.

Another careful glance around the room. That blasted group from Hogwarts was already in place, a block of colorful muggle clothes in a sea of respectable black robes. Well, if he and Dolores couldn't kill or drive them all off, he and his money would just have to leave instead, leaving them royalty of the ash heap.

Any rumors that they were somehow responsible for the removal of his friends in the Wizengamot had to be just that, rumors. Lucius must have somehow broken under questioning from Shacklebolt, and Chief Prosecutor Hughes had gotten lucky. It was obviously luck, as his repeatedly following his failing theories over and over, despite failing every time, just showed he was a loser, and deserved to be left behind. And poor.

One last glance at the current and recent students. Something about them today made him uneasy. In the past, they had chatted amongst themselves, and more recently glared at him as the trial had failed to go their way. Today however, they all sat quietly, still, and were all looking directly at him, most with a small smile on their face. Xeno's insane daughter was the exception. While smiling, she was staring off to the side, fiddling with a galleon in her hand. It was somewhat unnerving.

Suddenly another chair rose from the floor, with another man chained to it. It was Jonn Sommers, which made no sense, as he had been the first witness called against him. Given how he was also the first in the long string of witnesses to fail to prove the case against him, he couldn't think of any reason why they would bring him back.

The Chief Witch Anne Noggle led the procession of the remaining Wizengamot in through the doors to take their seats. Prosecutor Hughes and his assistants sat at their table across the open area, and Fudge's advocate, John Packington sat at his table next to Fudge.

The session was called to order, and in a surprise move, the three drops of veritaserum were given to Mr. Sommers. This got the gallery's and the reporters' attention. Their numbers had waned as the prosecution had repeatedly failed in it's efforts.

"Mr. Sommers," began Hughes, "I would like to review a few details about the financial transaction of May 15, 1993 that we have previously discussed."

"We have established that the transaction took place, and you have admitted to providing the money. I must ask you, did you consider it a bribe at the time?"

"No."

"Objection, your honour," said Fudge's advocate. "The campaign donation in question, and it's legality, has already been established, and Mr. Sommer's opinion about the nature of the transaction has no basis in law, and is thus irrelevant. Though, I note that perhaps I shouldn't object as his testimony yet again exonerates my client."

A few in the gallery tittered at that.

"Mr. Hughes?" asked the Chief Witch.

"I agree, your honour. However, I am not asking Mr. Sommer's opinion regarding the legal category of the transaction, I am asking him details about the transaction as an event as he was a witness to it."

"I fail to see the distinction."

"With a few followup questions, I hope to make it quite clear, your honour."

"Then be efficient, Mr. Hughes, my patience for this will be limited."

"Of course, Chief Witch."

He turned to his witness. "Mr. Sommers, did you view the transaction as a campaign donation?"

"Yes."

At this Fudge looked smug, and Mr. Packington looked ready to object again.

"_Why_ did you view the transaction as a campaign donation?"

"'Cause he tole me to call it that if anyone asked."

At this, Fudge paled to an awful grey-green, and began whispering heatedly to Mr. Packington.

"You stop him, and you stop him right now."

"I can't, it's something that he was a direct witness to, and the Chief Witch just allowed it."

"Well, find something to object to, or I'll find some way for you to be sitting in this chair instead."

"Threatening me, and withholding evidence that limits my ability to prepare an adequate defense, means I could drop you as a client, so shut it and calm down."

Meanwhile, Prosecutor Hughes was continuing his questioning. "And if you didn't?"

"If I didn't give him the money, and call it a 'donation,' he was gonna chuck me in Azkaban, 'cause he had evidence against me."

The gallery erupted into noise in surprise, only to quiet down as the Chief Witch glared at them.

"And the nature of this evidence?" asked Huges.

"Objection, your honour!" said Mr. Packington. "Mr. Sommers is not currently on trial, nor can he be asked to provide unknown evidence against himself."

The Chief Witch glared at prosecutor Hughes again. "Mr. Hughes, Mr. Packington has a point. Open court is not the place for discovery."

"I agree your honour. However, as Mr. Packington also pointed out, as Mr. Sommers is not on trial, he is merely describing his motivation for participating in the transaction."

"Furthermore, as prior testimony has most certainly cleared both Mr. Fudge and Mr. Sommers of bribery in this transaction, he will not _be _on trial for it, thus anything he says about the transaction is not evidence against _himself_. I'm about to establish that Mr. Sommers is actually a victim, not a co-conspirator."

The noise in the gallery rose again. The Chief Witch grabbed her gavel and banged it loudly on the sounding block to restore a semblance of order.

Hughes continued. "And before Mr. Packington can object again, we had previously reached an agreement with Mr. Sommers regarding whatever potentially criminal behaviour may have been committed that allowed Mr. Fudge to coerce Mr. Sommers."

"I object yet again, Chief Witch. If the prosecution has evidence against my client, they are required to provide such to the defense before trial."

"Mr. Packington has all the evidence, your honour. It is merely the characterization of the evidence that we differ on. Mr. Packington will say that any and all of these transactions were perfectly legal campaign donations. We have been positing that they are evidence of bribery, which we will now admit may not be the case. However, we now believe they _are _evidence of extortion, and have shown that at least one party supports that belief. If after reviewing the evidence and interviewing Mr. Sommers and the other witnesses, they failed to account for this possibility, it does not mean that _we_ were remiss in any way."

The Chief Witch sat thoughtfully, scowling first at prosecutor Hughes, then at her desk in thought, then finally at Mr. Packington.

She turned back to Hughes. "Are you going to recall all the witnesses, then?"

"Unfortunately yes, Your Honour."

"And you're changing the charges in each instance?"

"Yes again, Your Honour."

Her scowl deepened. "I don't like such surprises, Prosecutor Hughes. Why am I not trying to beat Mr. Packington in calling for a mistrial?"

The gallery gave a collective shout/groan, and it grew from there. Some of the comments were along the lines of "Just when it was getting good." The rest were in protest of the possibility of Fudge getting off due to the prosecution's incompetence. The noise rose despite Chief Witch Noggle banging her gavel to the point the handle broke. She finally had to fire off a concussive blast from her wand, and addressed the crowd.

"Keep quiet! You are here a courtesy, not as a necessity. Any more delays caused by the gallery, and you'll all be escorted out and the gallery closed for the remainder of whatever trial we have." The gallery quieted, but a low rumble of voices continued.

Fudge had a smile starting on his face. A mistrial would be a very good thing.

"Thank you, Chief Witch," said Mr. Packington.

She jabbed the pointy broken end of her gavel at him. "Don't get ahead of yourself. A mistrial is not exoneration."

Fudge was having a hard time not laughing out loud. He didn't care about exoneration, he just needed five minutes out of custody, a quick dodge to a floo, and he'd be set for life.

"And you," she snarled at Hughes, "shenanigans like this are a good way to get barred from the Wizengamot and demoted to law clerk. I'm not kidding about the mistrial, unless you've prepared to fix this mess."

"My apologies, Chief Witch. We have indeed, and were just about to get there."

Her raised eyebrow made him hurry along.

"Chief Witch, the prosecution hereby drops all 141 charges of bribery against Mr. Fudge. We apologize for the time taken by this trial so far. However, we are filing 141 charges of extortion and blackmail instead. We anticipate adding multiple counts of conspiracy for numerous felonies as well. While the evidence and witness list is exactly the same, we acknowledge that Mr. Fudge's defense team may wish to review it and them extensively."

The noise in the gallery swelled again, only to die after the Chief Witch grabbed her wand.

Fudge had gone from near glee to near panic. He needed the mistrial or a not guilty verdict. New charges applied now meant that—

"We also request that Mr. Fudge be placed in a Ministry holding cell immediately, without bail, given the number, nature, and severity of his alleged crimes, as well as for the large sums of money that remain unaccounted for. We view him as a significant flight risk. There is also the matter of his personal safety. We cannot guarantee his safety outside of the Ministry building now that criminal behaviour beyond bribery is nearly assured in each of the 141 cases, many of whom have not yet reached, and perhaps will not reach, an amnesty deal with us. This can only add to his personal danger and thus flight risk."

The gallery and even the reporters were all in loud conversation, many pointing down at the courtroom floor, and weren't influenced at all by another concussive blast.

Fudge was thrashing back and forth in his chair, cursing his advocate, Hughes, and Chief Witch Noggle. Then he saw that the students, lead by that bastard Potter, the mudblood, and the Lovegood chit, were all still sitting quietly, smirks on their faces, and truly lost it. Face red, nearly purple, he threw himself against his chains at them. "You worthless vermin. Why couldn't you have just died like you should have. You don't deserve—"

He was cut off by a silencing charm from the Chief Witch. She cast a _repairo_ on her broken gavel and banged just once, not even trying to quiet the crowd, which was now on its feet, most yelling back at Fudge. The court dicta quill would record her words regardless.

"Cornelius Fudge, all charges of bribery are dropped. You are hereby remanded to Ministry custody, without bail, for numerous charges of extortion and blackmail. A preliminary hearing is set for three weeks from today, where the prosecution and the defense will state their readiness to go to trial. Case dismissed."

She banged her gavel one final time, and headed out the doors to her chambers. She needed a drink.

Aurors came to release Fudge from the accused's chair. As soon as the chains were released, he dodged under the unprepared Auror's arm and lunged at the front row of the gallery, hands reaching out to throttle the neck of a smiling, smirking, Harry Potter. He made it only half way before four stunners hit him, and he fell to the floor, skidding on his face into the bar. As he was placed in manacles and dragged away, the Hogwarts group started applauding.

Luna leaned over to Hermione. "Now that's doing it right."

A/N: So, fun with Fudge. And with a gavel. Which, while a British invention, is apparently never used in British courts or halls of government, only auctions.


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